


begin again

by starbornillyrian



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, i dont know how to write summaries ahh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbornillyrian/pseuds/starbornillyrian
Summary: Feyre leaves Tamlin to move to Velaris and meets a handsome stranger who shows her that all love is not broken or lost.-I’m really bad at summaries so please don’t judge by my crappy summary!!!
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by taylor swift’s song ‘begin again.’  
> i hope you enjoy!

Feyre didn’t know what she was doing sitting in the airport at 3 a.m. 

No, that wasn’t true. She did know. She was running from her ex-boyfriend.

Tamlin.

There probably wasn’t reason for her to run, but knowing him, and his possessive nature, he would most likely show up anywhere he thought she would be, trying to convince her - or just take her - back to their, no, _his_ apartment. 

But even if he hadn’t been that way, she didn’t think she could spend any more time in the city they had shared.

She had memories of them everywhere - every shop she entered, every street she crossed, at her job, she saw flashes of their life together. 

It made her angry. She had only been with him for a little over a year, and he had made it so she couldn’t do anything without him. Her entire life was centered around him. She didn’t have any friends or hobbies outside of their relationship, except for her best friend, Alis.

They had met in college, when she was trying to get a degree in Art History, before Tamlin somehow convinced her to give it up after her sophomore year. It had taken her until she was 23 to save up enough money to got to college, and Alis was 24 when they met.

Alis, who lived in Velaris.

Alis, who she was calling right now.

On the fifth ring she picked up.

A groggy voice said, “Feyre? What’s up?”

“Alis," She breathed. Her voice was shaking as she said, “I need you.” She couldn’t help feeling guilty. It was 3 in the morning. She probably should have waited until later, but she wasn’t thinking straight.

She hadn’t been thinking straight in several hours.

“Uhh it’s the middle of the night,” Alis replied, and the rustle of fabric was heard in the background, as well as a soft groan.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I need you to pick me up.”

“I’m not in Springfield anymore, Fey-”

“I know. I’m at the airport,” She cut in, and she heard her friend take in a sharp breath.

Alis let out a bark of a laugh, “You could have warned me you were visiting.”

“I’m not, A,” She said and fidgeted with her sweater.

She was silent for a few seconds, then, “I’ll be there in 5,” And hung up.

Feyre hoped Alis wouldn’t be angry with her. She really didn't need to have a fight with her best friend after everything that had happened. She wasn’t ready for someone to explode on her again. 

_No, that’s what Tamlin was like_ , She thought, shaking her head, _Alis would never do that._

Feyre sighed and looked around her. The airport was mostly empty, except for a few people sitting in the rows of seats near their terminal. 

The row she was sitting on was occupied by her and her luggage, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. 

She had only brought a suitcase and a backpack. 

The thought almost made her laugh. Only a suitcase and a backpack held everything of her life without Tamlin.

A suitcase and a backpack. 

Then again, she didn’t have much to begin with. Feyre had had to work for everthing she had since she was at least 14. Probably longer. 

But when she was 14 years old, her family no longer had enough money to have an apartment, or even be fed, so she started to work. In diners, coffee shops, anywhere. 

Before she had met Tamlin, everything she had went to her family first, and if there was anything left over, she would spend the money on paint. 

There had been a time in her life when all she wanted was enough money to feed her family and buy paint. 

Now, she just wanted to sleep all day. She never had any inspiration. In fact, painting, or rather, trying to paint, always left her feeling sad. Hollow. Broken.

Oh, how the times change.

Her phone chimed, and she saw that Alis messaged her, _Here._

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she grabbed her suitcase and started walking to the parking lot. 

Feyre had visited Velaris enough times after Alis had moved there that they had a regular pick-up spot at the airport. 

The parking lots were sorted by letter, then number. Alis always parked near the F-1 sign.

Her yellow jeep wasn’t hard to spot. There were a few other cars near them, but not many. 

Alis herself, slumped in the driver’s seat with her eyes closed, looked to be taking a nap, her brown hair put up in a messy bun.

Feyre reached the back of the jeep and opened the back door, heaving her suitcase into the back. 

When she sat down in the passenger seat, Alis was looking at her intently.

“What’s going on, Fey?” She asked, grabbing Feyre’s hand in hers.

She squeezed her hand, and something cracked in her chest at the look of love and concern Alis was giving her.

Suddenly, everything Feyre had been trying to ignore came pushing to the surface, and sobs were racking her body. 

“Alis-He hurt me,” She cried between sobs, “He _hurt_ me.”

She repeated the words over and over.

_He hurt me he hurt me he hurt me._

The man that she was supposed to love, who was supposed to love her, had hurt her.

-

_The apartment was dark when she got home. Her keys jangled in her hands as she closed the door and tried to tip toe into her room. Even though they were living together, Tamlin had insisted that she have her own room, for things like her paints and anything she wanted._

_She supposed that, in hindsight, she was glad. She had a place to escape when Tamlin’s anger took over._

_As Feyre was just about to reach her door, a lamp turned on from the opposite end of the apartment._

_Tamlin was sitting, waiting for her._

_She sucked in a breath when she saw his expression - it was void of emotion, but Feyre could tell by the way he clenched his jaw, by the way his hands held the arms of his chair, that he was angry. No, he was_ furious _._

_“Tamlin, I’m sorry, I lost track of time - they needed help closing at the coffee shop-“ She desperately tried to say, but he cut her off with a lifted hand._

_“You disobeyed me.”_

_She felt a rush of anger at the connotation of that word. Disobeyed. Like he was a parent scolding a petulant child. Or a dog that didn’t sit when he told it to._

_“You can’t control me, Tamlin. That’s not how relationships work,” She said, her voice shifting from pleading to cold._

_She knew she shouldn’t say anything that would push him further to lash out, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. How many times had he told her she couldn’t go somewhere with her friends? How many times had he given her a curfew like she was his teenage daughter? How many times had he guilted her by asking if her_ disobedience _meant she didn’t love him?_

_And then he was moving, so fast she didn’t know what was happening, but she was on the ground and there was blood and she felt numb._

_Tamlin growled, “You are my girlfriend. I told to be home by 10.”_

_She knew she should be afraid, because when Tamlin was angry, he expressed it physically, but she honestly couldn’t get herself to care._

_She just needed him to leave her alone so she could get out. She was done._

_“I’m sorry, Tam,” She cried, and though everything in her screamed to get away get away_ get away _, she reached up to where he was towering over her and grasped his hand. She nearly choked on the words, “I’m sorry. I love you.”_

_And he just looked at her for a moment, before stalking into their room and slamming the door._

_Feyre sat there for a moment, and she heard the lock click._

_And then she had a suitcase and backpack packed, a note sitting on the counter of the apartment they had shared that read:_ We’re done. Don’t come looking for me.

_She walked out the door without looking back._

_-_

Alis was hugging her and rubbing soothing circles into her back, and saying, “It’s okay, you’re safe now, Feyre. You’re safe.”

And for whatever reason, those words made her cry harder, not because she regretted leaving, but because she needed to hear that in the first place.

She cried for the relationship she’d had, for the man she’d loved, for their life.

But mostly, she cried for herself. For the fact that she had needed someone to love her so badly that she hadn’t even realized that she didn’t feel safe with him until she was gone. 

She sobbed for what could have been seconds or minutes or hours, and when she didn’t have any tears left, she hugged Alis tighter before letting go and leaning back into her seat.

Alis looked at her for a moment, and seemed to be satisfied with whatever she was looking for because she turned the key in the ignition, and they were driving away.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Feyre really should get her own apartment. 

She had been living with her best friend, Alis, for the last nine months, and she was currently listening to her have sex. Very loudly. 

Glancing over to the clock in her nightstand, she sighed and pushed her blanket off. It was 4:42, about 20 minutes before she usually had to wake up. Either Alis was up very late or very early. 

Feyre turned on her lamp and shuffled to her dresser. With another sigh that turned into a yawn, she shook her head and started pawing through her drawers.

Today, she wanted to wear something nice. Something that made her feel confident. Because today would have been her two year anniversary with Tamlin, and although she didn’t ever want to be with him again, today she wanted to do everything she could to make her feel good about herself. 

So, she picked a bright red top and a pair of paint splattered, ripped jeans. 

Tamlin always hated her wearing bold colors. He told her to wear blush pinks and pale greens and delicate lavenders. And he hated jeans like the pair she was wearing. He said they were ‘unpresentable’. 

The thought had her rolling her eyes. 

Maybe a part of her was wearing this to spite him, but it also made her feel good. It made her feel like she was strong and bold and ready to take on the world. 

Just to feel herself further, she also grabbed a pair of matching black lacy underwear and halter-top bralette. She always felt more confident when she wore matching underwear. 

She looked herself up and down, and smiled a bit. She looked good. When she had come from Springfield, she had looked like a skeleton. Her bones had jutted out of her skin, and her arms where so thin they looked like they could snap. But now, her body was all soft curves and looked completely healthy. 

The light blue denim brought out the hue of her eyes, which were a mix of blue and gray. The jeans hugged her waist, and the top hung just on the waistband. It was also close-fitting, but still left a little to the imagination. 

The front door to their apartment shut, pulling her from her thoughts. It seemed like whoever Alis was with had left.

Her stomach grumbled and she decided that her hair and makeup could wait until after breakfast.

Alis was already in the kitchen, standing by a pot of boiling water for tea. She looked rather disheveled, her curly hair sticking up in several places.

”Early morning or late night?” Feyre said by way of greeting.

Alis just gave her a sly smile and shrugged. Knowing her, it was probably a late night. Unlike Feyre, she didn't have work today, since it was a Wednesday, whereas Feyre started work at 5:40.

She was a barista at Cesere Coffee House, and was the employee tasked with opening every morning. She didn't have to have the doors open until 6:00, and it only took her about 10 minutes to prepare the shop for the day, but she liked have the extra time in the morning. She liked experiencing the stillness before the daily rush. Plus, it gave her a small window of time to be late, and since the shop was small enough that she was the only employee there until her shift ended and couldn't rely on someone else to start without her, sometimes she needed it.

Alis' smile faltered when she looked to where Feyre was rubbing her arm.

The night she had left Tamlin, she wasn’t really sure how, but she got a gash on her left forearm that spread from her elbow to her wrist. At the time, she hadn’t even noticed it until she was in Alis’ apartment, taking a shower. 

Now, it was just a white line on her arm, and didn’t bring her any pain, but at some point Feyre had developed a habit of rubbing at her arm.

She hadn’t even realized she was doing it until then.

”Are you going to be okay today?” Alis asked carefully, still watching Feyre and opening a cabinet above her head to pull out two mugs.

She thought for a moment as Alis plopped two tea bags into the mugs poured the water in after. 

“I think so. I’m honestly just glad that part of my life is over,” She replied, and it was true. Today kind of made her happy, or at least the fact that she was her own person again. 

For a while she had lost herself, her sense of independence, because Tamlin never let her be independent. But now she felt like she could do anything she wanted, and no one could dictate that for her. Never again.

Alis watched her for another moment, but smiled and said, “Ok. I’m off to bed.”

She handed Feyre one of the mugs, taking the other with her toward her bedroom.

She shook her head and made for the fridge, “Goodnight.”

Alis waved to her over her shoulder, walking through her door and shutting it. 

The fridge was relatively empty, save for a half-full bottle of wine and a milk carton, as well as take out containers.

Neither of them were very good cooks, so usually they brought something home or ate out.

She peered at the containers, and decided that she would stop at a little bakery that was on her way to the shop.

Her hair was in a messy bun, half of it falling out the back, and when she reached her room she pulled the rest out and brushed it. Her golden brown hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and she pulled half of it up in a braid. 

For her makeup, she put a light coat of red lipstick that matched her top on and a little bit of mascara. 

When she was satisfied with her makeup, she set to packing her bag for the day. 

She didn’t need much: her sketchbook, a water bottle, a novel, her laptop, and a pencil bag. 

She spent another couple of minutes doing pretty much nothing, before she grabbed her bag and her phone, and started the walk to work.

After stopping to buy a chocolate croissant from a nearby bakery, she arrived at Cesere Coffee House twenty minutes later, put on her navy apron, and set to work preparing for the day.

She checked and restocked everything on the counter, prepped other needed ingredients, cleaned the tables, and had twenty minutes spare. 

So she set an alarm on her phone for 6:59 and sat down at a table to sketch

She didn't really think about what she was drawing, just let her pencil move on the page, and before she knew it her alarm was going off and she was unlocking door and flipping the sign from ‘CLOSED’ to ‘OPEN’.

The first customers started streaming in short after, and the day went by in rushes and lulls. 

-

Hours later, it was noon, and another employee, Clare, had arrived and was in the back. 

Clare stepped out in a navy apron, and smiled at Feyre, before taking Feyre’s spot at the register while she prepared a drink for a customer. 

Once she was done, she walked to the back and took off her apron. Her feet were sore after six hours of being on her feet, and she was glad her shift was over. 

She could finally sit down, have a cup of tea, and sketch. 

Over the last couple hours, the shop had filled and emptied five times over, and Feyre took her bag to the little table in the back corner by the window.

She settled herself with a cup of tea and sketched. The drawing she had done before didn't make sense to her anymore; it was just a collection of lined. So she turned the page and sketched the people she saw in the coffee shop.

A girl with curly brown hair and big black glasses hunched over a laptop, a blonde man and a black haired woman laughing, a man in a suit and holding a brown leather briefcase. 

She had been there for at least an hour when a trio of men walked in. There was nothing particularly special about them, except for the fact that they were all insanely attractive.

Two of them had similar coloring; tan skin and chocolate brown hair, while the third man had the same skin, but jet black hair. 

One of them looked like a professional bodybuilder, standing taller than his companions, his chocolate brown hair half up in a bun, the rest hanging just below his shoulders, and his hazel eyes seemed to shine as he laughed at something. His face was all rough planes, ruggedly handsome, but had smile lines and a warm expression.

The second man had the same chocolate brown hair, but was cut much shorter, spiking up from his head. He was the most classically beautiful of the three, with elegant features and the same hazel eyes as the first. But his posture was less relaxed, more guarded. His face was expressionless, unreadable, and the shadows in the dimly lit shop seemed to cling to him. He was also well built, but not as buff as his friend.

The third man nearly took her breath away. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and he seemed to know it, too, from the way he held himself with sensual grace and subtle arrogance. His hair was darker than the others, almost blue in its darkness, like raven’s feathers. He was built muscularly as well, but in a more slender way. His smirk was absolutely gorgeous, but simultaneously seemed to scream ‘I’m a prick, please slap me.’ And his eyes - _Cauldron, his eyes_ \- were like galaxies. They were a deep blue, with flecks of silver and violet. They were like the night sky in the middle of nowhere. 

The three of them each ordered separately and sat together at a little table across the shop from where Feyre sat. The first two men sat with their backs to her, and the one with the eyes like the stars faced her. The bodybuilder one was leaning forward on his elbows, having flipped the chair around and straddled it. The other man facing away from her was sitting rigidly, but seemed to relax after something the extra muscular one had said. The third man’s gaze fell to her as he sat, and his smirk seemed to sharpen before she blushed and looked away.

But after she seeing them there, with their huge bodies seated in chairs that looked tiny for them, an image flashed before her eyes. The three men, in the same configuration, but with big, leathery wings stretched out around them. 

She couldn’t get the image out of her head. Her fingers itched to paint it. But she couldn’t, os drawing would have to do.

Abandoning her previous drawing, Feyre started to sketch. Her pencil flew across the page, her eyes bounced between it and the men, and she became so absorbed that the sounds of the shop were drowned out. All her senses registered were the feel of the page beneath her hand, the firm pencil in her grip, and the trio before her.

Time became irrelevant. It was only her and the page, her and her art. It had been so long since something had made her feel this way. Feel like she had to out something on the page, had to capture an image from her head. 

She sketched and sketched, the world fading away around her.

“See something you like?” A voice purred, snapping her out of her sketch, and she looked up to find the third man she was drawing standing in front of her. 

His hands where in his pockets, and a smirk sat on his face. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and he knew it.

If she was being honest, yes, she definitely did, but his ego seemed large enough.

So, she tilted her body to look behind him, at his two companions, who looked like they were trying to hide their eavesdropping, bit her lip, and said, “Oh, definitely,” With a smirk of her own. “But they look too cute together to try do anything about it.”

One of them, the brawnier one, choked on his coffee, and the other’s shoulders seemed to shake slightly. Yep, they were definitely listening in.

She looked back at the stranger, who had tipped his head back and was laughing. It was rich and deep, and she couldn’t help but notice that it made her stomach flutter. 

After he stopped, his smirk had morphed into a wide grin, “That’s what I’ve been telling them for years, but they refuse to acknowledge it. Of course, I think either of them would look better with me.”

“Hmm,” She put a finger to her lips, “You and the muscly one would definitely be pretty cute. Or honestly just you as a thruple.”

The two still sitting were turned toward her now, the short haired one with laughing eyes and the other with a sound of indignation.

She just gave them a little smile and met the stranger’s eyes.

”And do you have anyone to look cute with?” His smirk reappeared, and he looked at her intently. His eyes, from far away, had looked like a deep blue, but from closer up, they had a more violet shade. They were like a night sky, with flecks of silver, one she would get lost in if she wasn’t careful. 

Her cheeks heated under his gaze, “Very subtle,” She deflected, pausing and looking down at her sketch, “But no, I don’t.” And before she lost her nerve, she asked, “You want the job?” 

She glanced back up, to see him smiling. A different smile than the cocky smirk or the laughing grin, but a shy, tentative one.

”Now who’s the subtle one?” He asked, leaning forward slightly, and continued, “Well, darling, I would, but alas, I must return to my thruple.” He sighed dramatically, giving her a little bow.

She snorted, and, feeling much more bold than usual, picked up a napkin, “If you change your mind, let me know.” She scribbled her number onto the coffee-stained napkin and handed it to him.

He took it with a flourish and a wink, “You can count on it, darling,” And walked back to his table.

She gave a little wave to his friends, and returned her focus to her drawing. 

The stranger before had had a devious smirk his face on his face in her sketch, but she erased it in favor of the wide grin he’d given her. It kind of surprised her that he found her funny. 

With Tamlin, he always frowned at her jokes, and eventually, he had told her to stop. At dinner parties for his job that he had made her attend, whenever she said something she thought was funny, the guests’ reactions were the same as Tam’s. A frown or a shake of their head.

But that man had laughed freely, a laugh that she wanted to hear again. She wondered if he would, indeed, let her know. She hoped so. She wanted to talk to him again. Their conversation had been easy, albeit short, like joking with an old friend.

Cauldron, she didn’t even know his name, and she was already thinking about if she would see him again. She shook her head at herself. _Get a grip, Feyre_

After she had drained her coffee to the dregs, she packed up her pencils and sketchbook. As she oeft, she waved at Clare, and was out the door. 

-

Once she was home, she had taken a nice, long bubble bath and read a book.

Today was successful. Most days were utter failures, but today had been... good. Really, really good. Her mind strayed to the very, very handsome stranger, and she smiled despite herself. 

They hadn’t really said much in their short conversation, but she still found herself checking her phone every few minutes. 

Normally, she didn’t care all that much for this sort of thing, the flirting and putting herself out there like she did earlier. Not since she’d started dating Tamlin.

But, damn, it felt good. Like maybe someday, she’d find herself a little less alone. Maybe she already had.

She loved Alis, but she was her only friend. Half the time, she felt almost like a burden, and the other half she was unbearably lonely. Alis had a life outside of Feyre, had friends, nephews, probably a significant other, and Feyre had no one. She hadn’t spoken to her family in years, and all her friends she had pushed away when she was with Tamlin. When she had believed that he just wanted her safe.

Even now, nine months later, she was still angry at him for making her only rely on him, and the ‘love’ and money he had given her. But mostly, she was angry at herself for not seeing it. For ignoring all the warning signs snd red flags that their relationship was toxic, because she had just needed someone to love her. No matter who it was. 

Sighing, Feyre stepped out of the bath and dried herself off, donning pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. 

Alis was out again, and she had pretty much nothing to do. 

Her mood instantly lifted when she checked her phone. 

**Unknown Number[7:18]: my boyfriends and i decided that the thruple wasn’t working** **out. still want someone to look cute with, darling?**

The stranger had texted her. A sense of giddiness had her insides swirling, and she replied.

**Feyre[7:22]: yes, but, sadly, i don’t go out with strangers.**

After sending it, she flopped onto her bed and waited for the telltale buzz of her phone.

He replied barely a minute later.

**Unknown Number[7:23]: well, darling that can be easily fixed. i’m rhysand, but call me rhys. and you?**

**Feyre[7:22]: i’m feyre.**

**Rhys[7:23]: it’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre darling.**

**Rhys[7:24]: what qualifies as no longer a stranger?**

**Feyre[7:24]: hmm**

**Feyre[7:24]: i need to know at least three entirely random facts about you**

**Rhys[7:25]: alright**

**Rhys[7:26]: my favorite animal is a bat, i wanted to become a veterinarian when i was a kid, and every summer i spend a week rereading the harry potter series.**

**Rhys[7:26]: now you owe me three facts**

**Feyre[7:27]: okay**

**Feyre[7:28]: when i was eight, i thought i could fly and jumped off of a roof, my sister is basically a herbology professor(that’s a hp thing right?), and i’ve only seen about half of the first movie.**

**Rhys[7:29]: what?!?!**

**Rhys[7:29]: this is a travesty**

**Rhys[7:29]: an absolute travesty!**

**Rhys[7:29]: we need to fix this right away.**

They ended up texting back and forth the rest of the night, Rhys trying to convince her to have a Harry Potter movie marathon, or talking about something else completely random, until Feyre looked up and it was almost midnight. 

Sighing, she told him goodnight and went to bed.

And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and please leave a comment!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
